


A Question of Family

by thalialunacy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epilogue What Epilogue, F/F, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-02
Updated: 2008-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Ron attempts to steal a shrubbery, and Harry and Ron play poker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Family

I swear—swear on a stack of a thousand copies of _Hogwarts, a History_ —that it was an accident.

Swear to _Merlin_.

No, not the part where I awkwardly told Hermione it just wasn't going to work, what with her being a girl and all, or the part where I shagged Oliver, then James, then Oliver _and_ James. Nor the part where I casually told my mother about the one night I forced George to come with me to a particularly swinging disco, although telling that tale did nearly cause me to lose an ear as well.

But no, the part where I kissed Harry. That was completely and _totally_ accidental.

I was rat-arsed, don't doubt it, and so had thought it a very good idea to go to Hyde Park and pick some flowers for him. Quite possibly the dumbest idea I've ever had, I know, but there you have it. I had this insane need to give him something romantic--and that's what people _did_ was give flowers, right? I've always been crap at that sort of thing--and I was massively broke and this seemed the obvious solution.

Harry, of course, being 'him'. There's no other 'him' out there, I know that.

And because of _him_ I was amongst the sprinklers and the shrubbery at two o'clock in the morning, trying to figure out what blossom I should illegally procure for a grown man who couldn't possibly want to get into my pants half as much as I wanted to get into his.

 _Preferably one that's not lavender,_ I thought, and was so absurdly amused that I laughed my way into the arms of two men in rather dashing uniforms. With vests and belts full of all sorts of intriguing accessories. And annoyed looks on their faces.

And after I failed to convince them I was only there to get a gift with which to secure the affections of my beloved, they took me to the cell and asked me who I'd like to ring to come get me.

I stared at them blankly, and shook my head, mumbling apologies. Not to them, of course. Apologies to Harry.

And then I lay on the concrete floor and counted ceiling tiles.

Before I could get to an hundred, he was there. He was there with his messy hair and his Muggle money and far more tact than I will ever have, and then I was free.

The night air whipped my face as we walked out, and he led me to a dark alley so we could Apparate.

He turned to me. "Hold onto my arm, alright?"

I nodded, my head all a-swirl with drink and love and lust and gratitude. Then it was swirling with Apparating, and then we were home.

Or, rather, I was home. The tiny, _tiny_ flat I'd stubbornly got after things with Hermione had gone—er, had gone platonic.

It was so very tiny, yet felt empty to me most of the time.

Unless Harry was there.

Which he was. Right there. And he'd rescued me yet again.

Suddenly, and with its usual enormous sense of lousy timing, my pride reasserted itself. I tried to stand up straight, despite the urge to plop down into the chair that seemed so close...and so far at the same time.

"I didn't mean for you to come get me." The words came out okay, much to my relief, but I still wanted to kiss him, which wasn't good at all.

He said nothing, just stood there being kissable, then he reached for me and I nearly fell over, but he just grabbed the clasp of my outer robes and started to help me out of them.

Then I realized something.

"Wait."

A smile started at the corner of his mouth but he didn't pause. I struggled to get my left arm out of my robes and think at the same time.

"How'd you—how did you know to come get me?"

He didn't answer for a moment, instead throwing my outer robes on the carpet and helping me sit. He knelt in front of me—where he could easily have leaned forward and been between my legs—to unlace my shoes, and my drunken cock twitched with interest. Delusional thing that it is.

"Well," he said slowly, "you don't have any Muggle ID. When an unidentified person comes up in the Muggle system, the Ministry of Magic is notified in case it's one of ours that's got lost..." He looked me in the eye and the rest of his mouth came up into a full-fledged smile. "...or something."

At that, he couldn't contain his laughter anymore. I sat, mouth half open, failing to see what was so bloody hilarious.

"It's not funny! It's not my fault there were pleece—" The word wouldn't come out, and I nearly stomped my foot. "Pole—policemen there! I just wanted to get you a flower, wanted to get you something nice but can't afford anything but rubbish, and I don't see what's so funny abou—"

Right then is when I noticed that he'd stopped laughing.

"Oh dear."

He was right there, between my knees, and he was staring at me with those green eyes that not only saved the world but saved my arse every time, and I just couldn't _not_. Couldn't, you understand? His lips were there, and they clearly needed to be kissed. Nibbled. Sucked on.

So, alright, really, it wasn't at all an accident. It was necessity.

Still, not my fault in any way.

But afterwards, as he looked at me, his eyes strange and his lips sticky from kissing, I couldn't think of anything else to say. "Sorry."

"...what?"

"S'an accident."

He regarded me with an eyebrow raised, one hand up and scratching right behind his ear.

"Accident," I mumbled again. "'m sorry." And, because clearly it was the only solution, I passed out right there in my chair.

\---

"Ronald Weasley!"

I scrunched my eyes more tightly against the noise and the light that threatened just outside the realm of sleep. "Five more minutes, Mum."

She made an exasperated noise. "I hope I'm not your mother, otherwise we've broken several laws."

That got me awake, although awake only gave me an excruciating pain in my head and the impending need to piss.

And the memories of the night before.

I groaned and cracked one eye open towards the fireplace, where Hermione's head floated greenly. "Whad'you want? 'm sleeping."

"Yes, well, may I come over?"

I hesitated, which clearly meant yes, because within what seemed like an instant, her head was out of the fire and directly in front of me, sitting on a body that I'd known intimately but now found, at most, cuddly.

Her hand was on her hip and a death glare was in her eyes as she leant over me.

"I can't believe you."

I groaned again, summoning up the energy to have this conversation, despite my headache and the all-over ache from sleeping in a chair. "If you're here to lecture me on stealing, trespassing, or excessive drinking, please make it short. My head feels like it's playing host to a convention of footballing elephants."

She waved all that away. "I know you'll do anything for somebody you fancy, once you set your mind to it, no matter how ridiculous."

 _...wait, what?_

My other eye cracked open.

"So no, Ron, I won't lecture you on trespassing or getting arrested, or being a drunken lout."

Nearly fully awake now, I regarded her with sick curiosity. Hoping against hope that she didn't know about the accidental-kissing business. "What, then? Did you miss me? Come to make me breakfast?"

She really did reach out and smack the back of my head. Pain thudded through it like a freight train. "Oi!" I practically shrieked at her. "That was downright cruel!"

"Yes, it was! And it was no less than you deserve!"

"What the bloody hell did I do to deserve _anything_ short of a medal?"

Her eyebrows drew together, and I finally saw that there was real consternation there. Whatever I'd done, it vexed her most infinitely. So it couldn't've been kissing Harry. Because she'd then know that I'd actually saved Harry from being summarily accosted by his best mate, to whom he was clearly not attracted. Pretty damn heroic, I'd been, if you asked me.

Which, of course, she didn't.

"You led poor Harry on, that's what."

Well, _that_ was an interesting way of looking at it. My mouth fell open before I could stop it, and I shifted under the blanket--

The blanket Harry must've put on me before leaving the night before.

My gut contracted and I looked up at Hermione with wide, probably bloodshot eyes. "That's rubbish."

"I know it's rubbish. But I know you did it anyway, because right after you did it, he came to my house—which was fine, before you ask, as the baby is still ill and had just vomited everywhere—and told me just what you'd done. Was distraught, our Harry, and all because of you and your inability to control yourself."

Sweet Merlin, good to know it was that awful of an experience for him. I threw the blanket off me, prepared to stand, but the room sort of shimmered and I then thought better of it. "It was just a kiss! It was an accident! He doesn't—doesn't like boys!"

She blew air out of her nose and looked down at me with pursed lips. "Ronald."

"What?" I said testily, my hand on my forehead. It _hurt_. Everything hurt. Hurt so much I felt a bit sick.

Her face softened, and she got out her wand to summon the necessary potion from my cupboard. "Here, drink this."

I did as commanded, than sat back and closed my eyes with a moan. She gave it a rest for a minute, and once the potion kicked in I took it as an opportunity to defend myself.

"Listen, I know it was stupid, but I was fucking wasted. I'll apologise to him if you want, tell him I thought he was...someone else."

But she was shaking her head at this perfect plan, which flummoxed me. "No."

"Whad'you mean, no?"

"I mean, you are going to march over there and tell him the truth."

I gaped at her again. Seemed my face was going to freeze that way. "I can't do that."

"Oh, I think you can. And you will. Or else I will."

"Hermione!" More gaping, this time with absolute horror added in. She wouldn't dare do that to me.

Would she?

She shook a finger at me. "Don't think I won't, Ronald. I'm sick of being the go-between. I have quite enough on my plate, thank you."

I reached up and took her hand, immediately guilty. "How is Cho this week?"

Her eyes lit up and a soft smile touched her lips. "Fine."

"I saw the Tornados won, so she must be in high spirits. And the kids? Other than the vomit, of course."

"Brilliant. Precocious. Ours."

"Good." And it was good. My headache was gone and my kids were precocious. Still had to piss, though. "I'll be over tomorrow, as usual."

She shook her head. "No."

"What?"

"No, tomorrow you are going to need to do other things."

"What?" I said again, thoroughly confused.

"Tomorrow night, for supper at the earliest."

"But—"

"No. No arguing. Now go take a shower, you smell rotten. Then go see Harry. Or I will."

My stomach made its way back into knots. "But—"

"Now! And don't think I won't know if you don't follow through." She waggled her eyebrows at me. "I am Head of Magical Law Enforcement, you know."

I almost laughed at that, but then something occurred to me. "Wait! That reminds me... Why on earth was Harry the one notified when I got—you know...? Wouldn't it logically be you?"

She tucked my hand into hers one last time. "When you and I were finally through, Harry requested to be your emergency contact and caregiver."

The gape was back again. "But—why?"

"That, Ron, is a question I think you should ask him." She let go of my hand with a squeeze and threw some powder into the fireplace. "Oh, and I'd recommend cooking him dinner instead," she said with a smile. "Flowers are for girlfriends and mothers in hospital." Then she was gone.

\---

Madness. Madness, madness, _madness_.

The word kept repeating merrily in my head as I trudged up the stairs to Harry's flat and cursed Hermione's interfering, scheming, meddling self. She couldn't possibly realize how terribly wrong this was going to go.

But when she threatened, I listened. I wasn't married to her for three whole years without learning a few lessons.

So there I was, weighed down by groceries, with an asinine task and absolutely no idea how to accomplish it.

Well, one idea.

Liquor.

Lots of liquor.

Okay, so I didn't learn _all_ the necessary lessons while married, it seems. But a bloke's got to keep some sense of being a bloke, now, doesn't he?

I didn't have to knock; he knew I was on my way and we'd not knocked on each other's doors since the war. "Get on with it," he called from the back room. "I'll be just a minute."

I stood there in the entryway for a moment, admittedly relieved that I could put off seeing him a bit longer, then shook my head at myself and made my way into the kitchen.

Ten minutes and most of a glass of whiskey later, I had dinner going but was a bit stuck on step seven. My mother's instructions had been useful but she tended to get carried away.

I'm sure my tongue was sticking a bit out of my mouth, as it does when I'm thinking particularly hard.

"I didn't think you liked eggplant," Harry's voice said in my ear.

Well, not _in_ my ear. That only happened in my particularly outstanding dreams. But it was near enough that I jumped, nearly knocking one of the pots off the stove.

"Merlin's beard, you should know better than to sneak up on a mate like that. I'd've likely hexed your balls off if I didn't know how thoroughly this house is warded."

Oh dear. Shouldn't've mentioned balls, I realized as my mind went directly to the thought of Harry's set in particular. My ears went scarlet and I started stirring with enthusiasm. "I—" I had to clear my throat. "I'm not a particular fan of the stuff, no, but I hear it's your favourite..."

The flush crept from my ears to my cheeks and I stared determinedly at the pot I was stirring.

"It is."

His voice was nowhere near my ear now, which had me both frustrated and relieved, and I turned to find him getting himself a glass of firewhiskey. Perfect. If he got sauced, it would take him longer to hex me when I told him I wanted to become intimately acquainted with his cock.

Finished with step seven, finally, I took a long swig of my own drink and tried to think of something to say. Well, something not related to my cock and his mouth, or his arse and my tongue, or any number of things in that arena.

"Tornados won the other day," I finally came up with.

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied easily. "I saw Cho this morning and it's all she could talk about."

"Oh, right. What did she say about it? Any goss about that new Seeker?"

"Loads."

We talked steadily about Quidditch while I finished steps nine through twelve, drinking steadily, and dinner went well, also. Nice. Mates, friends, compatriots, eating a nice meal together. No cocks in sight, no unwanted accosting on the horizon. Brilliant.

And then I had drink number four.

We were halfway into a game of poker, something Harry had a penchant for, for some mad reason, and I knew I was set to lose. I'd always thought it a silly game, lying on purpose, and I wasn't sure why he continually wanted a rematch, but he was Harry and I would do any number of silly things for him, so I always said yes.

And this time, like many other times, I was losing. I knew he had a good hand, from the way he kept scratching behind his right ear, and I knew I didn't. Usually I'd've folded and made him play backgammon or Pontoon instead. But this time, although four drinks isn't enough to get me sloppy-faced, for some damn reason it was enough for me to decide to stay in.

He upped in response, his finger steady on the scratch. To stall for time while I decided just how crazy I was going to get, I made to pour another drink.

Harry's smirk stopped me. "Probably shouldn't get wankered two nights in a row, mate."

"What, don't want to have to rescue me again?"

He raised an amused eyebrow. "I have a saving-people thing, remember?"

"Yes, but..." I carefully put the correct number of chips in the middle of the coffee table. "...you haven't put yourself as anyone else's emergency contact and caregiver."

He suddenly found his drink very interesting. "Well...I figured Hermione was too busy, what with the kids and Cho and being head of the department and all, and just in case you were thick enough to get yourself arrested, I shouldn't want your mother coming to find you doing porridge."

I laughed at the thought. "Too right. I can only imagine what sort of state she'd put those policemen in."

"Utter mayhem. Although I'm sure they'd all behave very well afterwards."

"And have no idea why."

We laughed, but the smile faded off his face too quickly. "I mean, if you'd rather, I can have it changed back to Hermione, or to George..."

"No."

He looked at me, and, fortified by drink, I met his gaze.

"It should be you."

He coloured slightly, and I wondered at it for a moment. Then he placed his bet, the chips seeming to thunk down onto the table rather loudly. "Well, thank you."

"Please," my mouth continued to run off, "I should be thanking you. You saved my arse again last night, and just now volunteered to do it as often as necessary for the rest of my..." The finality, formality, familiarity of that phrase hit me and I had to swallow. "...life."

But his face remained merely amicable. "Nothing you wouldn't do for me, I don't doubt. Although I don't think I'll ever be ridiculously drunk enough to try my hand at mercenary horticulture."

I snorted, face reddening as we skirted towards The Dangerous Subject. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, alright?" To distract us both, I put some chips down, clearly determined to part with as much spare change as possible. "Now place your bloody bet and let's be on with it."

His eyebrow rose again. "Fine." He put down some chips. "I call."

Oh dear.

"Well."

"Oh, go on. I know you're bluffing." He sat back in his chair smugly.

"Sod it," I mumbled, and threw my cards on the table. Pathetic hand, it was, and he grinned triumphantly as he spread out his ten-high full house.

"How'd you know I had a crap hand?" I asked glumly as I pulled out my coins to pay up.

He shuffled the cards, not meeting my eyes. "I always know when you're bluffing."

It took a second, but once I got it, the full meaning of that statement gave me the willies. Serious willies.

"... _al_ ways?"

He nodded, glanced up at me for a moment, and then went back to shuffling. "Always."

My brain cranked into overdrive as I took all this in. As I watched his nimble hands fold the cards into straight line after straight line.

As I remembered for the first time that he had unbelievably and unrepentantly kissed me back last night.

 _"Oh."_

And his finger. Had scratched. Like he'd had a good hand.

"... _oh_ , buggering _hell_."

It was like the ceiling had crashed down on me, I was so stunned. The sun had come out, the birds were singing, I was tingly all over, and all those other awful things people say when incredibly good shit happens to them and they're not sure what to say.

Harry, though, maddeningly didn't share this revelation with me. Just continued to shuffle the blasted cards, watching me surreptitiously but clearly not intending to throw me down on the couch and have his way with me, much to my chagrin.

Well, I'd definitely swallowed enough liquor to do something about that, right? And if it turned out I was way off track, I could always just blame Hermione. She'd get over it.

"Alright, there, Ron?" I found him asking, looking at me curiously. "What's happened in that mad head of yours?"

I cleared my throat, tried not to grin too widely, too quickly. "You. Scratched."

His brows came together. "I what?"

"I always know when you have a good hand. You do this scratching bit with your right hand, and I know."

He regarded me with surprise for a moment, and then put the cards down. "So why'd you keep in?"

My stomach jiggled. _Steady on, Ronald._ I could hear Hermione's voice in my head.

"Because you scratched."

"Okay, mate, now you're just talking in circles. Too much liquor? Is it time for bed?"

The suggestion brought all sorts of damp thoughts to mind, but I pushed them back, trying to not fuck up the most important thing in my life.

"No, no bed. At least not yet." I swallowed, trying to breathe, and met his eyes earnestly. He had to see, had to understand, had to know how loudly my heart thumped in my chest. "Unless you're there with me."

He blinked, stared. "Ron...I—I mean...d'you..."

I nodded once. "For years," I said, in a tone was far more in command than I felt. "I would play a million rounds of poker with you—which I hate, by the way—if it got you to scratch like that." I pushed the pile of coins across the table at him. "Call it."

The minutes stretched. And _stretched_. And I thought I was going to die there, waiting for him, his puzzled, dear face looking at me as though he'd never seen me before.

Then, finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and he stood up.

I stayed seated, watching, my gut sinking as he turned away from me.

He took a couple of steps, but then turned back. His eyes crinkled with laughter at the corners and he held out his hand. "Well? Aren't you coming with me?"

And the birds started to sing again.

"Dear sweet Merlin I hope so." I was certain that a ridiculous-looking smile was stretched across my face, but I didn't care, because he grinned back at me, and glanced pointedly down at the hand he was still holding out for me with a raised eyebrow. I swiftly stood and pulled him to me.

This one, I made clear, was no accident.

I kissed him roughly, messily, _purposefully_. I wanted to feel the wet slide of his tongue along my teeth, memorize the little noises he made in the back of his throat, and be free to make my own as his hands clutched at my hair, my jumper, my belt buckle.

He pulled out of the kiss as he worked on that last bit, and looked up at me with a smirk. "I owe Hermione ten galleons now, you know."

I gasped as his hand found my cock, pretty much unable to comprehend what he was saying. "Oh?"

"I didn't think..." He paused for a kiss as he found a rhythm and I tried to breathe. "Well, she was certain this would happen today. She seemed to have it all planned out, actually, but I said you didn't have the bollocks." He smirked again as his hand moved to my particular set of said genitalia, and my knees threatened to quit holding me up. "I was wrong."

I grinned and leaned my forehead against his, not wanting to be so far away. "Thank Merlin." My eyes were very nearly shut at the fantastic feeling of his hands on me, and I realized a change of scenery was necessary before we ended up shagging directly on his living room carpet.

"Wait," I managed, extricating his hand, as much as it pained me. I kissed him once again, unable not to, and then pulled him down the hallway. "Bed."

He smiled. "Absolutely." He followed me closely, tucking his fingers into my back belt-loop. "She'll never let me live it down, either, I know it."

I had reached the bedroom door before all of what he was saying really hit me. I turned to him. "So...all this time, you've been waiting for me to...er..." A blush crept up my cheeks and I cursed my genetics.

He smiled again, his eyes full of laughter. "Yes, Ron. I was waiting for you to say something. 'Fancy a shag?' would've done, or maybe, 'Gosh, I'd love it if you'd give me a blow job.'"

I nearly choked. "Harry!"

"What? Ron, I've known you longer than I've known anybody that matters. And with Ginny gone, I..."

My heart contracted at the mention of my sister. "I'm a lousy substitute, Harry."

"...I came to realize how enormously in love with you I am."

I blinked at him for half a second, and then whooped in triumph.

Wrapping my arms around him and lifting him off the ground, I kissed him enthusiastically. Laughter bubbled out of him and escaped between kisses, and it was fucking contagious. Before long we were laughing too hard to keep kissing, so I unceremoniously dumped him onto the bed and flopped down beside him.

I leaned over him and put on my best leer. "Alright, Harry. Fancy a shag?"

He guffawed again and shoved me onto my back, straddling my midsection, and my cock stood thoroughly at attention. Then he leaned down to kiss me, his breath hot on my lips.

"Yes."

\---

When I woke again, the sun was in the wrong place and I blinked at it stupidly. Then Harry moved against me in his sleep, and it all flooded back.

I looked over at him, and found him sprawled on his back with the sheet halfway down his body, his head facing away from me and his arm flung out to his side. I obligingly rolled towards him and kissed his exposed neck, making a little wet path towards his strong jaw and fantastic cheekbones.

Hey, I'm allowed to think my mate's good-looking.

Because he bloody well is.

And his cock, before you ask, is very nice too. It poked at me as he sighed and shifted into my arms, half awake but altogether aroused.

I grinned and went to it, reaching down to roll his magnificent balls in my hand. He let out a hiss of air and I began kissing my way down his pale torso.

He tasted like sleep, and sweat, and Harry, and I was alright with it.

More than alright with it.

I pushed the covers back and leaned over his cock, tasting lazily, and his hips arched towards me. My name escaped his lips on a groan, and my own cock hardened in response as I pulled him fully into my mouth.

He must've been dreaming something wet and pleasant, because he came rather easily, and tugged me up to kiss him almost immediately.

 _That_ drove me absolutely wild, knowing he was tasting himself on my tongue, and my hips jerked against him of their own accord.

He chuckled against my lips. "Do we have time?"

I groaned in frustration. "I don't care."

He snorted. "Yes, you do."

And, of course, he was right.

So he took matters into his own hands.

And we were very nearly on time.

\---

"Listen," I said as I straightened his perfectly aligned cloak once again, "don't do anything around my kids. They love you, but they've clearly got Hermione's brains and they'll know as soon as we—"

He pressed his lips to mine and I realized he had tucked my hands in his to still them. "Ron, everything will be fine. Hermione knows, Cho knows, and your kids will know soon enough."

I wasn't convinced.

"My kids have known for months now, and they're fine," he added finally, watching closely for my reaction.

I stared at him, shocked. "What?"

He shrugged. "Molly didn't want me to, but I figured they had the right. They don't get all the details, of course, but they asked about Hermione and Cho, and it seemed a good time to explain about their dad. They're young, but even Lily understands the idea that love is the most important thing we've got, no matter what."

It took me a moment to process this. Then a small chuckle came out of me.

"What?" he asked.

"Your kids knew before I did, you wanker!"

He grinned. "Well, you'd've known if you'd paid even the littlest bit of attention."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Moaning my name in your sleep, were you?"

"Close." The corner of his mouth quirked up and he leaned in towards me. "In the shower."

I exhaled quickly and reached to kiss him—

But the sound of a clearing throat came from our left and we jumped apart.

My ears burned as I faced Cho, her trim lips curved into a smirk. Holding her hand was my beautiful daughter, her thumb stuck resolutely in her plump mouth.

"Hello, boys," Cho said, pushing the door open for us. "Come on in."

"Thanks," I managed to mutter as I stepped into the house. Harry and Cho hugged and exchanged niceties while I swung Rosie up into my arms.

"Daddy!" she squealed at me delightedly, and my heart expanded, although it didn't seem possible, even further than it had in the last twenty-four hours.

"Hello, darling." I twirled her around and she laughed. "How have you been for the last few days? Anything exciting happen?"

"Hugo vomited all over Mum's hair," she said proudly.

I laughed. "That's my boy. So he's still sick in bed?"

She nodded solemnly. "He's nearly better, though."

"Good." I couldn't help smiling at her deceptively cherubic-looking little face.

Hermione appeared. "Ron! Hello!" She kissed both my cheeks warmly. "Hugo's asleep, but he's on the mend. Or did Rosie tell you?"

Rose nodded helpfully, and Hermione turned to Harry, smiling smugly. "I believe you owe me some money, Mr Potter."

He rolled his eyes, but reached into his robes to retrieve the correct coinage. "I should've known not to bet against his ex-wife."

"Yes, you should've," she replied, her eyes twinkling as she pocketed her winnings. "Thank you." Then she leant into him. "Everything go alright?" she asked conspiratorially. "With the—you know..." And she made an extraordinarily naughty hand gesture.

"Hermione!" I choked out, my ears burning yet again. I tried to cover Rose's eyes with my hand but she squeaked indignantly and smacked it away.

"Well, I have the right to ask!" Hermione said, her hand on her hip. "This is my doing, after all, and you are my two dearest friends in all the world."

Harry moved to my side and I felt his hand on my back, warm and solid. "Yes, Hermione," he answered. "Everything went very...smoothly." And he grinned. And Hermione grinned. Hell, Cho even grinned.

My face must've been absolutely magenta at this point. "Merlin's beard, you lot are horrible, depraved people. And to think, I'm letting you in on raising my innocent children." I leaned my head very close to Rose's. "Don't listen to a thing they say."

She giggled. "Okay. But I already know that you fancy Uncle Harry."

"Oh dear."

The colour drained from my face and nothing but my fatherly instincts kept me from dropping her in shock.

"Rose!" Hermione rounded on her, wagging a finger. "I thought we agreed we were going to wait for Daddy to tell us!"

Rose looked contrite. Nearly. "Sorry, Mummy. I forgot."

Harry snorted. "No, you didn't. Come here." And he took her out of my hands and set her on her feet, crouching down to be at eye level. "So, you know, huh?"

She nodded, clearly proud of herself for being privy to such an important fact. "Yup."

"You know that your father and I love each other very much?"

"Yup."

"And you know that your mum and dad and Cho and I will always be around to take care of you and your little brother?"

"Yup."

He grinned and scooped her up. "Well, good. Brilliant." She grinned back at him. "You hungry?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

"So am I!"

They both turned to Hermione expectantly.

She laughed and waved them towards the kitchen. "Go on and set the table; the food's nearly ready."

Cho spoke up. "I'll take her. Come on, little one, let's go." Rose scrambled out of Harry's arms and took the proffered hand.

I watched them go, pleasantly stunned at how easily she'd accepted it all, and then turned back to the two loves of my life.

...who seemed to be, much to my chagrin, in some sort of conference, speaking in low tones and glancing at me knowingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, shove off. You know I'm the best either of you has ever had."

They both burst out laughing. Harry came over, grabbed me round the waist, and Hermione giggled as he kissed me lightly. My ears reddened and I tried to glower at her, but failed miserably when she laughed again.

"I'll go help with supper," Harry murmured. I squeezed his shoulder gratefully and he made his way to the kitchen.

Hermione and I looked at each for a moment. A small smile graced her face. I pulled her into my arms, kissing the top of her head softly. "Thank you," I said simply.

She pulled back and looked at me, affection shining in her eyes. "You're so very welcome." Then she gave me that look, that I-Know-Far-Better-Than-You look from when we were eleven. "Git."

Then she cocked her head towards the kitchen, where we could hear Rose's animated voice telling some tale of dungeons and fairies and, somehow, a puppy, with Harry and Cho egging her on indulgently. "Now come to dinner with your family."

I looked at her, stuck on that thought. Not quite what anyone expects when they're young, it's true...but I realized at that moment that this was my family. And they were family I could be damn proud of.

And besides, my family has always been large, loud, and unrepentantly abnormal.

So I found myself grinning, filled to brimming with an absurd sense that all was right with the world.

And, I also realized, utterly famished.

"Absolutely," I said to her. And, arm in arm, we made our way.

:D:D:D

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Clairey](http://claireyfairy1.livejournal.com), who picked the prompt ('accident') like a billion years ago. I chose, for kicks, to do it a la ([shocolate](http://shocolate.livejournal.com)), so it's for her, too. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, darling. :D The backgammon is for [Lina](http://lina_granger.livejournal.com). :P
> 
> Other notes: I used a really old reference from Square One Television, lulz. And Dan!Harry, to an excess, so apologies to him, wherever he may be, and apologies to those that aren't fond of his Harry. It's sort of AU and sort of not AU; I like to think I took canon apart and re-spun it into a different yarn weight, but it has all the same fibers. You might disagree, and that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the story. :)
> 
> Thanks to [Patty](http://modestyrabnott.livejournal.com) and [Lu](http://elucreh.livejournal.com) for the beta jobs, and to [HP_Britglish](http://hp_britglish.livejournal.com) & [madamsnape](http://madamsnape.livejournal.com) for the patient Brit-picking.
> 
> Thanks to everyone else for reading, and to all for loving our precious boys. :D


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